


Training (Horns)

by MesmiraculouslyMirthful



Series: Goretober [14]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Horn Damage, fighting robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 02:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12378564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MesmiraculouslyMirthful/pseuds/MesmiraculouslyMirthful
Summary: All it took was a small programming error and a single blow and he was on the floor screaming.





	Training (Horns)

Equius hadn't been building robots for long, maybe three perigrees if he was rounding time up, but he had honestly thought that he was doing well. He had searched out every tutorial on engineering and robotics that he could find, from advanced schoolfeedings to online tutormentorials on grubtube. 

His first automaton hadn't been a difficult creation. The programming was simplistic but elegant and the chassis housing his creation had been polished to a beautiful reflective silver with blue inlays. He had felt a great deal of enthusiasm and pride when he had pressed the small button on its side and it had whirred to life, its short puck-like body sliding across the floor, leaving a polished surface in its wake. Aurthour had seemed delighted with Equius’s finished project as well,rewarding his charge with a pat on the head and an extra glass of milk. 

The polishing robot, for that was what it was, vastly improved the lives of both Aurthour and Equius. For the usus butler, the polishing robot left him more time to both spend with his charge and to take on further duties. It also prevented him from slipping on the freshly cleaned and mucus shined floors, as he had once done so often whilst performing his duties. For the young troll the robot was a turning point, one that gifted him with both more time with his lusus and an art form he could use to express himself. 

While robotics was not as noble an artform as musclebeast portraiture, it required less of a delicate touch and was a noble pursuit just the same.

More automatons had soon followed, each more complex than the last. Every new nuance, every new innovation, had enraptured him and spurred him to push harder. It for him, was the thing, fit him in a way that he hadn't ever thought anything ever would. The robots shined the floors, changed the light bulbs, grew greenery for his meals. Each one served a specific purpose. Each one fit into a hierarchy, with everyone knowing their place and the role that they were designed for. 

The first of his sparring robots had been far too weak to withstand his great strength, its programming a sad almalgorithm of various schoolfeeds on tactics and hand to hand combat. It had looked beautiful and functional and, had he been a lesser troll, it could have proved to be a great challenge. He had literally punched its head off in under thirty seconds.

The disappointment had not given him cause to pause. Rather, it had served to inspire him. He could do better, he _knew_ he could do better. He did not have a choice. If he wanted to take his place in society he would need to be an accomplished fighter as well as an artist, and his strength made it so that Aurthour could not provide him with the sort of training he required.

The second of his sparring robots had been built with a reinforced titanium frame, its programming a direct copy of the first volume of the fleet training manual. It lasted little over a minute before Equius tore its body in half from the shoulder down. The single punch it had managed to throw had done more damage to itself than to Equius.

The third of his sparring robots had been built from magnesium alloy and carbon nanotubes, its programming a carefully curated library of the advanced fleet manual and every schoolfeed on fighting and tactics that he could find. He stress tested the frame before he began programming, assuring that the robot would be able to withstand his strength to some degree, since it would not due to have his creation break after punching him.

Everything was going smoothly. The fight was difficult and forced him to concentrate on his opponents moves and their weak points rather in order to successfully attack. After five minutes in the ring, he had begun to sweat from the exertion.Then the robot had thrown a hard right punch. Instead of aiming for his body it had aimed at his horns, taking its cues from _How to Quickly and Effectively Discourage a Defector From Continued Dissent_. The automaton’s fist had made contact with Equius’s left horn, snapping it in half with a single punch.

The blow had sent him dropping to his knees with a panicked scream, his arms covering the top of his head to protect himself from another blow. He had not programmed in a failsafe, in case he needed to shut it down. He screamed again, his voice echoing down the halls even as he fought his own body to stay conscious. Bile clung to the back of his throat. All he knew was the ringing in his head and the flashes of pain that were causing him to see white. He caught the robot’s fist, just barely, within his own and threw an uppercut that landed on its mechanical jaw. Its fist jerked out of his grasp, pulling back and flying forward for another hard punch.

The robot crumbled to the floor, smoke rising from the arrow buried in its destroyed processor. Aurthour dropped the bow that he had wielded and bent down to check on Equius. His eyes were wide, unfocused, his breathing heavy. Half of his left horn lay detached on the ground.


End file.
